Last one of this college au, I promise.

Snow fell softly from heavy silver skies, but inside, the fire burned warm and cheery. Cinnamon floated in from the kitchen where Mother was busy preparing Christmas dinner while Father was cleaning his pipes, the chanter glistening in the firelight. Angus, as usual, had his head stuck in a book. And Malcolm was utterly bored.

"Angus, do ye want to play a game?"

"When I finish this chapter," came the monotone response.

Malcolm rolled over on the couch and squinted at the other's book. "But ye jist started it!" he wailed.

"Aye. I'll play when I've finished this."

Malcolm didn't bother to ask whether this meant the book or the chapter. And thankfully, the door bell rang just then, diverting any other response Malcolm might have had, and he went to the door. Anything was better than being bored on the couch in the middle of winter break.

He returned triumphantly to the living room holding a small box.

Angus laid down his book, leaving a finger in the middle to resume reading. "Wha' is that?"

Even their father laid down his pipes, which he had finished cleaning, to pay closer attention.

"Something from Fiona," Malcolm bubbled cheerfully. He whipped out his knife and cut through the tape.

"Why would Fiona send something and how does she ken our address?" Angus was not amused.

"I sent her a card," Malcolm replied absent-mindedly.

"A card? Wha' in the world did ye say?"

Malcolm looked up and blinked. "Erm... Jist that I would hae sent her an amazing Christmas present except the mailman told me to get out of the mailbox so the card would hae to do."

Their father started chuckling and went into the kitchen to tell his wife, leaving the two brothers alone.

"Ye did wha'?" Angus yelped. "Malcolm! 'Tis nae sensible! And utterly ridiculous!"

"Hey, she sent us this, sae get over it."

"And wha'," Angus continued in a calmer tone, "is this?"

"Tha's wha' I'm trying to find out, daft limmer, but ye keep interrupting me. Seriously, man."

Angus rolled his eyes heavenward and leaned back on the couch, resuming his book.

A letter promptly flew through the air, the corner jabbing him in the face.

"Tha's fer ye," Malcolm exclaimed before tearing through some paper and exclaiming some unintelligible modern lingo.

"Wha' now?" Angus cried, paying no attention to the letter in his hands that Malcolm miraculously had not opened.

"She gave me these!" Malcolm was laughing so hard he could hardly see Angus' face palm.

"Cinnamon roll socks? Really? I expected better of her," Angus commented.

"Nae! These are perfect! Besides, everyone wears these things. Keep up wi' the times, bruh."

Angus sighed heavily and turned his attention to the letter in his hands. Breaking through the seal, he took in the awkwardly flowing script and became dead to the world.

Some minutes later, a voice broke from somewhere above him, "I thought it was Christmas, nae Valentines' Day."

"Malcolm!" Angus whirled around and attempted to slap him, but without success.

Malcolm landed back on the floor, his eyes sparkling. "I kent she liked ye!" He smirked.

Angus bit down on his lip and scowled. "Wha' does it mean to ye?" he snapped. "Stop reading over peoples' shoulders."

"Wha's wrong wi' reading over peoples' shoulders?" came a new voice.

Angus jumped and met the newcomer with blushing cheeks and stupefied silence.

Malcolm started laughing. "Fiona was here all the time, bruh! She brought the box in and I was wondering how long she'd wait to come in here." He jumped to his feet and nearly squeezed the poor lass to death.

"Och, Malcolm! I donnae need my ribs cracked, thank ye very much." She was laughing, but her eyes were fixed on the blue-eyed lad still sitting in stunned silence on the couch.

"Well, Angus," she murmured softly once Malcolm ran into the kitchen. "I assume ye read the letter then?"

Angus looked at the paper in his hands and folded it up before getting off the couch and standing in front of her. "Aye, I did," he managed to say at last.

"Ye still mad at me?"

"Mad? Fiona, I was ne'er mad at ye! That was all Malcolm's doing, what happened during spring break."

She did not answer in spoken words, her emerald eyes filled with longing that not even music could express.

Angus' thoughts ran in commotion before he finally grabbed hold of one and held onto it for dear life. Giving one glance at the kitchen to make sure no one would suddenly dart out of that room, he took Fiona into his arms and finally kissed her.

Malcolm stepped out of the kitchen, froze, and then headed right back in.

Oatcakes were better than kisses, he decided. Even if it was Christmas.

Yeah probably extremely lame. But at least I finished it. ^_^ Two sequels to the original. Enjoyed, I hope, POTH fans.